Stay Toxic

Chapter 2

“Hello, pervert.”

I don’t register the words, because he’s right in front of me, with those wide shoulders, and that smirk, and those piercing eyes that seem to dance with amusement as he stares at me.

Even though I have no clue what he just said, I notice that voice. Oh my god, that voice. It’s deep, it’s slow, it’s sensual, teasing and downright infuriating.

I stand there, gaping like a particularly dimwitted fish.

The stranger blocking the entry to my room chuckles, and I feel myself flush in embarrassment. After all, when I saw him half an hour ago, he had his cock out. A very large, hard cock, too.

My face is on freaking fire.

“Hi,” I squeak, my voice coming out wrong. I clear my throat. “Yes…” What I’m acquiescing to, we’ll never know. “This is my—err, this is my room.”

Words, Tia. You know how to use them. They form sentences, normally.

“Figured as much, given the fact that you have a key,” he replies like I’m making sense. “And all those bags.”

He lifts his chin in the direction of the two duffle bags over my shoulders.He doesn’t say way to state the obvious, idiot, but it’s heavily implied.

“Ari’s in the shower with Roman,” the stranger tells me, stepping out of the door frame to let me in. “You might not want to go in yet, to avoid offending your sensibilities again, Miss Prissy.”

I narrow my eyes. “I’m not prissy.”

Yay! I managed three words in a row. Mostly because I’m no longer looking directly into those intense blue eyes.

Amusement curves the corners of his lips even higher. “If that were true, you would have joined in, instead of ogling us like a little pervert. Certainly looks like you wanted to.”

I gasp, shocked that a guy I’ve never seen in my life before the last half hour could say something so openly lewd. I’d like to think I’m not prissy, but there’s no denying that people don’t act like that around me. Especially guys.I’m just not used to it. Is this how normal kids flirt, outside of my acquaintance? No one back home would dare speak like that to Senator Cole’s daughter, but maybe that’s how boys would have treated me if my mother wasn’t who she is.

Not that this guy’s a boy, as such. No, the defined muscles, tight jawline, and five-o’clock shadow obscuring his chin all firmly say man.I don’t know how old he is, but I’d say closer to twenty-five than twenty. He’s likely a grad student like me.

Maybe I’ve only ever met boys, but it’s hardly my fault. My school was girls only. The clubs I was allowed to join were reserved for people just like us. And I stayed home through college, firmly under my mother’s thumb. She wouldn’t allow otherwise, and it wasn’t worth starting the fight that early.

The finish line is my twenty-fifth birthday. There’s no point trying to rock the boat until much closer to that.

At long last, I find my voice. “I did not.”

Three words again. I should pat my own shoulder.

The infuriating stranger laughs in my face. “My mistake. And there I was, so certain you licked your lips as you watched my cock like it’s made of candy.”

Gasping, I decide to end the pointless, inappropriate conversation, and actually walk into my room, ignoring him entirely. I just can’t deal with him. What does one even say to that?

Especially given the fact that…I was watching his cock. I’ve only seen Rob’s, and let’s just say, they don’t even compare.

I force my mind to firmly shove all thoughts of the overlarge shaft behind me as I take in the space in front of me.

It’s nice. Considerably more spacious than the dorms at the academy I attended for high school. My room at home is certainly larger than this, but not more pleasant. It’s pink and frilly and decorated as if I were still playing with Barbies. Which I am definitely not. This pale, mature space is a welcome change.

I finally chuck my duffle bags next to the small double bed, rolling my shoulders, before setting my suitcase at the foot of the bed.

It’s late and I’m beat, so unpacking will have to wait.

Thankfully, the college provided linens, neatly folded on top of my bed, and I proceed to make it, pointedly ignoring the man still standing where I left him, in front of the open door.

I should have shut it behind me.

It’s unsettling, having a guy—a handsome guy whose name I don’t even know—here, while I make my bed.

I’m struggling with the last corner of the fitted sheet—it’s tight, and a third corner keeps popping up whenever I manage to tuck it under the mattress—when I hear footsteps. I make myself ignore them.

“So, what’s your name, pervert?”

I ignore him harder.Mostly because I don’t know how to deal with him. It’s not like I don’t like this flirting, I’ve just never experienced anything like it, and I have no idea how to respond.

“If you don’t tell me, pervert is gonna stick, you know. You’ll only have yourself to blame.”

I groan. He’s definitely a frequent visitor to the room, as my roommate is happy leaving him alone in her space while she hogs the shower. Should he make good on his threat, it’ll quickly get on my nerves.

“It’s Hestia, if you must know,” I say primly.

I never, ever introduce myself as Hestia. Because it’s a stupid name. But somehow, this guy’s making me nervous and awkward and yes, in my case, that translates as an unbearably formal, high-strung, prissy tone.

“Tia for short. What’s your name?”

“Something almost as pretentious as Hestia,” he replies, grabbing hold of the corner that’s threatening to give, and yanking it into place. “You can call me Sebastian.”

“Now I’m curious,” I admit. “I can call you Sebastian, but that’s not your name?”

He shrugs. “Middle name.”

“Ah. And what’s the pretentious first name?”

He snorts. “I don’t think we’re at that level of acquaintance yet, Hestia. Let’s just say I’m considering suing my parents over it.”

I’m disconcerted by the fact that a man quite as handsome and rude and lewd can also be funny. And cute.

Keeping my eyes on my pillowcase, so I don’t lose my voice again, I say, without thinking, “If I sued my mother for something, it wouldn’t be my name.”

He sits on the bed. “Ah. Mommy issues.”

I wince. That’s putting it mildly, but I don’t need to confess my deepest, darkest secrets to that perfect stranger.

I toss the pillow on the side he’s not sitting on. “I’m going to sleep now. Nice meeting you, Sebastian.”

His eyebrows hike up an inch. “Dismissing me?”

“Well, yes.” I’m exhausted after the last forty-eight hours. If my roommate feels like entertaining him and whoever Roman is, it’s her business, but she can do it on her side of the room.

Sebastian doesn’t budge, and I decide to resort to my first technique: pretending he isn’t there.

I wish I could get changed and brush my teeth, but I’m too tired to wait out what is no doubt another wild sex session in the bathroom, so I just kick off my tennis shoes, peel my shorts off my leggings, remove the blouse over my lacy tank top, and slide underneath the freshly laundered lavender-colored linen.

“Good night, Sebastian,” I hear myself say as I close my eyes.

It would have been smart to insist he return to my roommate’s side, or better yet, leaves. He’s a complete stranger, not to mention the kind of guy happy to tag team some girl in her dorm room—and be watched doing so. I should feel completely unsafe with him here.

But any kind of reaction sounds like effort, and all my energy is gone, gone, gone. I’m asleep before the next heartbeat.